


Tastes Like Strawberries

by feihart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1, 5+1 Things, Boys Kissing, Can you tell that I like writing about iwaoi kissing, Canon Compliant, Five Plus One, Fluff, High School, M/M, Slice of Life, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feihart/pseuds/feihart
Summary: Five times Oikawa wonders what Iwaizumi’s chapstick tastes like, and one time he doesn’t have to.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 30
Kudos: 212





	Tastes Like Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is beta’d by Chi, Yen, Mars & Christine. Thank you all so so much for helping me make it the cutest version!
> 
> (Title from Harry Stiles 'Watermelon Sugar' — Chi, I'm so sorry about this jdafkhslkfjhsadlfj)

\- 1 -

Oikawa loves being in the midst of a tournament. He loves the constant scuffing of shoes against the floors turned to shrill squeaks as players make split-second plays. Loves the team chants that get louder and louder as their respective fans chime in. The neverending calls for the next ball— _Here! Power! Free ball!_ The sound of the whistle in Court A overlapping with the sounds of the whistle in Courts B and C. Everything that could be a distraction to someone else helps ground Oikawa in the moment, to focus on the next game rather than dwelling too long on the last game.

“Feeling good, captain?” Coach Irihata claps a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder good-naturedly. Oikawa manages to take his eyes off of the teams currently playing in Court C—whoever wins this set, they’ll be playing next. He’s itching to get in the game.

He smiles brightly at Irihata. “Yup. Really good. The next game should be a walk in the park.”

“Good.” Without warning, Oikawa is steered away from the gym, Irihata guiding him back into the hallway where other teams on standby are waiting. “Rest before the next game.”

“I _was_ resting!” He whines but doesn’t fight the coach as he’s forced to sit down amongst his teammates and their sports bags. “By scoping out the competition.”

Irihata ignores him in favour of addressing their vice-captain. “Keep an eye on him,” he says with finality, then walks away.

Iwaizumi is sitting next to him now, staring at him openly. It’s not strange for him to regard Oikawa like he’s waiting for him to do something foolish, which is a totally unfair and unwarranted expectation since he’s always _mostly_ well behaved. But sometimes, the look in his eyes is too serious, and Oikawa isn’t really sure why.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then that weird look is gone. Iwaizumi is the first to break the silence. 

“Shittykawa.”

Oikawa makes a distressed noise, because he didn’t know he’d say that. “Don’t call me that!”

His friend only smiles in return, sharp edges softening, entirely too pleased with the reaction he receives. “So? What’s your assessment?”

“Well.” Always eager to talk about other teams’ weaknesses, Oikawa launches into an explanation of what he’d noticed before he was pulled away. “Shiroioka is in the lead 17-14. It looks like they could take the second set. Kezan has a bunch of holes in their defence.”

While he’s detailing a particularly weak play on Kezan’s part, Iwaizumi shoves his hand in the pockets of his Seijoh team jacket. He shakes them out and comes up empty save for a lone Milky candy wrapper from long ago.

 _Ah_ , Oikawa thinks, he’s looking for his chapstick. He knows it by the way Iwaizumi smacks his lips together gently to confirm that they’re indeed dryer than he likes them. He licks his lips to moisturize them while he searches in one of the side pockets of his duffle bag and produces a stick. It’s pink today, and when he uncaps it, it’s already twisted up to the height he prefers. 

Iwaizumi’s ritual of putting on chapstick, in a way, grounds him too, amongst the hustle and bustle of tournament days. 

Having witnessed it so many times before, Oikawa is pretty familiar with how it goes. Iwaizumi always starts from the right corner of his bottom lip and works small strokes towards the other side of his mouth. Then he switches to the top, same small motions but left to right. When he’s done with his first application, he smacks his lips together to test the new softness of them, then smiles slightly if it’s to his liking. Even then, Iwaizumi — though stingy with most everything else — is pretty generous with his number of applications.

Oikawa finds his routine extremely cute. And usually, he can get away with thinking this to himself, as Iwaizumi is often too concentrated on either his action or what’s happening in front of him to notice Oikawa staring at him.

But sometimes, like this time, Oikawa isn’t very careful. He gets so _distracted_ by the routine, he doesn’t notice that he’d stopped talking. He’s focused entirely on Iwaizumi’s mouth, frowning now as they move to form the sounds — “Oikawa?”

He blinks up at him, and they stare at each other for a moment. Iwaizumi is flustered, leaning a little bit away from Oikawa.

“What?” Iwaizumi asks when Oikawa says nothing, a little more sharply than he’d meant to.

“What?” He echoes, then continues where he thinks he left off, pretending he can’t feel the way his ears burn with embarrassment.

\- 2 -

Oikawa decides that watching Hajime put on chapstick is like watching him dance.

Bottom right corner. Slide to the left. Turn. Slide to the right. _Smack, smack._

“Now do the cha cha slide.”

“What?”

 _Oh_. Oikawa hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He snickers instead of answering, and Iwaizumi mercilessly flicks his forehead. He deserves it because he’d been warned against letting his head hang off the bed, where he’s an easy target. Still, Oikawa makes a whiny, displeased sound, grabbing the nearest pillow. He swings it meekly at Iwaizumi, who easily deflects his attack and scoffs.

“Stop being weird,” he tells him, turning his glare back to his homework on his desk. “And stop staring at me.” 

“I can’t help it!” Oikawa hugs the pillow to his chest, sliding his feet down the wall so his knees are slightly bent. “It’s hypnotizing.”

“I _will_ stop putting chapstick on around you,” Iwaizumi threatens with no hesitation. Maybe Oikawa would take him seriously if he didn’t know Iwa-chan inside and out.

“No, you won’t. The one thing you hate more than me is dry lips.”

“Shut the fuck up,” is the answer he receives, which makes him laugh.

Iwaizumi carefully returns the cap to the stick and shoves it in a drawer. Before it disappears, Oikawa notices that this one is yellow, and wonders what the flavour is.

\- 3 -

This is terrible. This just won’t do. How is he supposed to survive right now?

Oikawa is thankful that there’s no one else in this aisle of Toshi Mart. He must look so funny smacking his lips and swiping his tongue over them repeatedly. He’s trying to give them a little moisture, but it never lasts, and it just makes his lips sticky.

Truly, the worst part is the complete absence of chapsticks. He cannot believe this.

“ _What_ are you doing with your mouth?” 

He startles a little, but relaxes when he sees it’s just Iwaizumi having made his way around the corner. Oikawa is thankful it’s him who’d found him aggressively licking his lips in front of the car-shaped bar soaps. As it is, he’s a little offended at the chiding look on Iwaizumi’s face.

“I don’t judge _you_ when you do this.”

Now it’s Iwaizumi’s turn to look offended. He scoffs. “I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah—”

“Are you guys done?” Matsukawa is standing on Oikawa’s other side, a bunch of snacks and random items cradled in his arms because he’d again assumed he didn’t need a basket on his way in. 

“I’m not buying anything,” Iwaizumi announces. Oikawa just raises the packaged shokupan in his left hand as an answer. 

Matsukawa leaves the aisle first, and Oikawa puts a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder to stop him.

“Hey. Do you have chapstick?”

It’s a stupid question. Oikawa knows the answer is yes - he always does.

Iwaizumi shoves both of his hands in the pockets of his sweats to fish for it. He pulls out a green stick and asks, “Why?”

“My lips are dry.”

He pockets it again and shakes off Oikawa’s hand. “Suddenly, I don’t have any.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Just buy one of your own,” he tells him, sidestepping Oikawa’s tall form to go after Matsukawa. Oikawa follows him too.

“There are none. Zero. I checked. Obviously.”

Iwaizumi makes a low noise that’s one part annoyance and one part resignation. He must be contemplating it, but before he can make a decision, Matsukawa throws a tube at Oikawa. 

“I took the last one. You can have that. And you owe me two hundred yen.”

“Problem solved.” Iwaizumi pats Oikawa on the back unsympathetically, then exits the store. 

Staring at the stick on the floor, Oikawa thinks, _Damn it_. 

\- 4 -

“Watch the line attacks in the first set. They really favour those.”

The team is huddled together waiting for the first whistle to draw them to court. They acknowledge Oikawa’s advice, and listen intently as Coach Irihata takes over to give the team a brief pep talk of his own.

Next to him, Iwaizumi folds his lips together and nods, reaching into his jacket pocket to extract a chapstick. Oikawa nudges him with his elbow, because now he feels as if his lips are dry, too. He smacks his lips together when Iwaizumi looks at him with a small grimace, then smiles when his friend returns his hand to his pocket to remove a second chapstick. 

Oikawa glances away when he hears his name called, but as he’s distractedly reaching to pick up a chapstick, Iwaizumi wraps his hand around his wrist to direct him to the right one. He uncaps it, twists it up, dances from the bottom left to right, top right to left, mirroring Iwaizumi’s movements.

“Sharing lip balm now?” Hanamaki is looking at them with a rather stoic expression, his amusement made clear in the way his mouth twitches as he tries and fails to suppress a smirk.

“Bro, that’s an indirect kiss,” adds Matsukawa, who is hanging off of Hanamaki’s shoulder with a more evident grin.

Iwaizumi shoves his chapstick back in his pocket and takes Oikawa’s too before discarding his jacket. “That’s the one _he_ bought, you losers.”

If Oikawa didn’t know any better, he’d say Iwaizumi is a little flustered. 

The other two laugh, and before he can get in a cheeky comment of his own — maybe embarrass Hajime further by telling them he wouldn’t mind sharing chapstick — the referee blows the whistle. They shake off the moment and head off to court.

\- 5 -

Iwaizumi denies it, but Oikawa suspects that he actually owns an _obscene_ amount of chapsticks. He knows because they’re different colours, and he changes the flavour every few days; he’s just curious as to how many.

“Thirty-six.”

“Not even close.”

Damn it. That’s his third guess, and Iwaizumi only allowed him five. The other two had been too high and too low. Iwaizumi now refuses to tell him whether he’s in range or not. At this rate, he’ll owe him the Godzilla plush he bet on.

Iwaizumi passes the grape gummies to Oikawa and curses the bus for being late. He takes the bag and stares at it, willing it to give him the correct answer — his allowance cannot cover this gamble.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa starts, realizing he doesn’t know all of the flavours he owns either. “Do you have grape-flavoured lip balm?”

Iwaizumi nods distractedly, licking his dry lips and grimacing. He swings his backpack forward and unzips the side pocket, pausing when Oikawa asks him, “What about milkbread?”

“What?” Iwaizumi looks up at him, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

Oikawa tips the bag to drop some gummies into his hand. “ _What_ what?”

“Milkbread-flavoured lip balm doesn’t exist because that’s stupid, idiot.”

“Why is that stupid?”

“It’s like asking for chapstick-flavoured milkbread.” He takes back the bag when Oikawa proffers it to him. “What does milkbread even really taste like?”.

Oikawa hums, chewing on the candies thoughtfully. Iwaizumi shoves the rest of the gummies in his backpack. From that same pocket, he takes out his chapstick. 

“I see your point,” he says, “but I hate it.” 

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes in response. It makes Oikawa grin. “So what’s your favourite flavour of chapstick? You always have a different one.”

“This one.” He caps the stick he’d just been using. Oikawa, like an idiot no longer in control of his body, leans in to smell it. Iwaizumi is alarmed by the sudden proximity, but he definitely did not expect Oikawa to be _that_ close. When Oikawa looks up, their lips touch — they both flinch away from each other. Oikawa folds his lips in, nervous. Iwaizumi’s mouth is open with shock. 

“Oh,” Oikawa says after a beat, because he didn’t expect that either. But he can taste it. “Watermelon.”

Iwaizumi blinks. Down the road, the loud engine of the bus can be heard. Iwaizumi looks away and towards the noise, and breathes, “Yeah.”

~ +1 ~

Sometimes, they do this: gather blankets in one of their backyards and lie down, staring up at the sky as they share dango between them. Sometimes they bicker; and other times they stay silent, basking in the comfort of each other’s presence.

They don’t usually kiss. 

What started as an accident at the bus stop days ago turned into more frequent mishaps, until Iwaizumi noticed that Oikawa was doing it on purpose.

So. The kissing is a new development.

Oikawa likes it. He likes the way Iwaizumi parts his lips when goaded; likes the way Iwaizumi chases his mouth when he starts pulling away, just to tease him; the way he cups his cheek if it means they’ll be able to kiss a little longer.

He also likes annoying Iwaizumi. He’s terribly ticklish, so Oikawa brushes his fingers against his waist with purpose. Iwaizumi claps his own hand on top of Oikawa’s and shoves it away, then rolls onto his back.

“God, I hate you. You’re so irritating.”

“You don’t,” he says with confidence, laughing because it’s hilarious. Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly. 

Oikawa wants to kiss him again. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan.”

“What?” He sounds a little bitter, but Oikawa knows he isn’t.

“You changed the flavour.”

“What are you talking about?”

Oikawa gestures to his own lips, swollen red thanks to Iwaizumi’s efforts. “Chapstick.”

“No, I didn’t. It’s the same as yesterday’s.”

He smacks his lips together. “You definitely did. It tastes like—” Oikawa pauses. _Strawberries_ , he decides, the artificial kind that he knows is from Toshi Mart. Rolling over so he’s somewhat lying on top of Iwaizumi, he says, “You know what, I’m gonna need another taste.”

Iwaizumi laughs and weakly pushes him away with an airy, “No, jackass.”

But as always, Iwaizumi lets him kiss him anyway.


End file.
